


A Matter Of Size

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Arguing, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Mild slash, Play Fighting, Typical 'Young Ones' Behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: An argument starts in the house and sparks fly - well... what's new? But when an insult about Mike's height leads to him telling them all that he's not as small as people think he is (blatent innuendo alert), Rick then becomes far too curious for his own good...





	A Matter Of Size

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2006 to Livejournal.

"You actually call this food?" Rick asked him, staring into the bowl of soggy cereal. Picking them out with his spoon, one by one, he brought them into his line of vision, in order to analyse them. They were bland, unappetising, and tasted of cardboard cuttings. "I mean, best before 1973 - are you sure you didn't just use the box instead?"

His eyes wandered from the meal, across the table to the various items on show: a few drops of curdled milk, carelessly splattered on a grey and white chequered tablecloth, poorly cleaned, and to the group of sauce bottles which were clustered in the middle. It crossed his mind that a bit of tomato ketchup might just do the trick when it came to hiding the taste. Yes, that's what Vyvyan would have done - actually, he probably would have grabbed at the bowl in disgust, and upturned it with both hands. Rick decided it better to simply push the dish to one side, spoon and all.

"I'm sorry man," the hippie shook his head, "They were, like, cornflakes when we bought them." And sure enough, upon further inspection, the details on the packet confirmed that he was telling the truth. But, after finding what appeared to be several different species of microscopic life lurking behind the flakes, it was becoming ever more difficult to believe.

He leaned back over to ask Neil, "Well then, what does that make them now?"  
  
Nothing that a bit of _rough_ and _tumble_ wouldn't solve, it _seemed_. Though the argument was only just starting, it was _bound_ to last until lunchtime - those two _regularly_ fought like cat and dog, and the disturbance came as no surprise to the other flatmates. Sometimes they found themselves coping, or dealing with it all as best they could - but, sadly, for _most_ of the time, the personality clashes that occurred within the house were just too much to put up with.

"Give it a rest, you two," a voice intervened from behind a broadsheet newspaper. Both heads quickly turned, their attention shifting to the man sat at the far end of the table - because, when Mike spoke out, people listened.

His dark head peered over the top of the pages, looking left and then right at the two young men, before speaking to the latter. "He does cook the meals for you - try not to hassle him too much," the cool person's words were final. With his handsome features, his flawless sense of style (at least that's what he _told_ Rick when referring to his wardrobe of lilac two-piece suits, golfing jumpers and plaid trousers), it was hard to pick fault with him. Without him, their madcap schemes wouldn't work and life would fall apart, taking the fragile foundations and walls of this building down with it. He was _respected_ in this household. But for one, _this_ people's poet would not be talked down to, and he was _determined_ to find a way to get back.  
  
"Yeah, what's it to you, shorty?" he lashed out. Of all the bright ideas he'd had, to remark upon his friend's size was probably one of the worst. There were unwritten rules, an invisible line which he had just crossed - they may have called each other spotty students, losers and _virgins_ \- but that was one insult too far, even for him. He placed his hands on his hips, nodding along to the words, thinking himself so clever for coming up with it.

"Don't you start on that," Mike shot out of his seat, losing the reading material, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that big things come in small packages?" He gathered his things from up off the floor, before rising again to the challenge. "Besides," he said, a cocky smile coming to his lips, "I'm big enough where it counts..."

It didn't take a genius to work out what he was getting at. Which was just as _well_ , really, with the average level of intellect in the room ranking somewhere below chimp. But even they, in their infinite lack of wisdom, were masters of the innuendo. And to _think_ that the boys had ever _wondered_ how he managed to charm so many gorgeous birds.

"Really?" Rick snorted, his emotions now turning from annoyance, to amusement and devilish curiosity. Mike was nothing special - no more than any of _them_ anyway, so there had to be something else behind his pulling power when it came to the girls. His boast sounded possible, but he needed to prove it.   
  
And so every opportunity, every waking moment was spent in _doing_ so - following him about the place, making use of keyholes and doors ajar, and spying on him when he was in his attic bedroom. At one point, he could have _swore_ he saw him having a conversation with the late, great Buddy Holly. And was he _really_ trying to pass that plastic girlie doll off as the real thing? Throughout the day, he did _everything_  and, by the end of the afternoon, he had tried every last trick in the book. But, unfortunately, it was to no avail, and the poor student eventually found himself joining Vyvyan downstairs on the sofa, in good need of a sulk. Shamed in his defeat, he sighed and slumped back into the cushions. If it was sympathy he was looking for, he wasn't going to get any.

"You're such a pervert," the punk told him, smirking. He was clearly revelling in this, taking any chance he could to tease him.

"I am not!" Rick defended himself. That was such a typical thing for him to say. Just because he was _curious_ about his fellow flatmate's assets, it didn't mean that there was anything _sexual_ going on between them. Well, that was his story, and he was bloody well sticking to it. He angrily pounced on him, knocking him off the edge of the sofa and onto the concrete flooring. Fists flew, ornaments smashed - the impending row was inevitable. And, not before first grappling on the ground, did they manage to push each other through the kitchen wall and into the downstairs bathroom.  
  
Not even they could have guessed what would happen next. Half of their bodies and heads through a well placed hole in the door, they came face to face with what was _least_ expected. There was Mike, fresh from having showered, a wet towel slung over one shoulder. He was naked, and certainly _not_ happy to see them.

"We're so sorry! We didn't know that anyone was in here," they both said in unison.

But where the ginger haired boy began to giggle, Rick could do nothing but stare at Mike in sheer awe, open mouthed. Because he _hadn't_ been lying - I'll tell you _that_.


End file.
